


Familiar

by zinabug



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Not Beta Read, This fic has spoilers for up to the s3 finale!, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinabug/pseuds/zinabug
Summary: There were 48 steps to get Renée from the bridge to her quarters, and she counted every time. It was familiar, well worn, boring. Just the thing she needed sometimes— just enough of a distraction for her thoughts to stay out of dark places, just easy enough to let her think anyway. Balanced.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Familiar

_ One.  _

Swing around and catch the first bar. 

_ Two.  _

Kick off the door and grab the next bar. 

_ Three.  _

Swing around the corner and grab that bit of rope you tied there. 

_ Four.  _

Pull yourself along that pipe. 

_ Five.  _

Kick off the door frame as you go through it. It’ll get you to the next bar. 

There were 48 steps to get Renée from the bridge to her quarters, and she counted every time. It was familiar, well worn, boring. Just the thing she needed sometimes— just enough of a distraction for her thoughts to stay out of dark places, just easy enough to let her think anyway. Balanced. 

Back and forth, on her own little well worn path in this massive mess of a station. Longer than Eiffel’s path to the comms room, and Hilbert slept in a room practically next door to his lab. Lovelace took a spare room, later on. A room far away from everything. 

She didn’t mind the trip. It gave her the time to wake up in the morning— she’d often go to the bridge before the mess hall— and the time to get all her mental ducks in a row at night. 

On the days where existence felt like dragging herself through mud, she could always count on that familiar path for a breather.

Of course, she didn’t always end her day there. The further the mission dragged on, the more often she’d be heading back from the med bay or engineering or the comms room or their makeshift brig. She never memorized those paths quite the same, and even though she counted the steps she never remembered the numbers. 

When she’d first arrived, she thought the station was too loud. Much louder than she’d expected. But, as she learned, silence equals the void outside which equals death. Now the sounds of the station were familiar to— life support and air vents, the engines, the hiss and creak of door opening and water moving, the occasional crackles of static from the intercom. 

The Urania was too quiet. She’d noticed it the second she stepped on board, noticed how quietly the engines and life support hummed and the way nothing creaked. She decided she hated it. 

Yes, the Hephaestus was a horrible creaky broken hellhole she couldn’t wait to leave— but it was  _ her  _ horrible hellhole. The place where she could tell that something was wrong with the engines just by listening. The place where there was 48 steps from the bridge to her quarters. 

_ Will it be too quiet back on earth?  _

_ How long will it take for you to get used to gravity again?  _

_What will life be like without these_ ~~ _three_ _four_~~ _~~seven~~_ _five around?_

She had a careful routine around the ridiculous, unpredictable events on the Hephaestus, as often as it was broken. Count the steps of getting through another day. 

_Wake up. Ask Hera for a status report while you_ ~~ _brush and rebraid your hair._ _Brush your hair and put it in a ponytail._ _Brush your hair and try to keep it out of your face._ _Brush your hair_ _._~~ ~~_Ruffle your hair around so it’s presentable._~~ _Ignore your hair. get dressed. Brush your teeth. Head to the bridge, 48 steps, and do a manual check up. Go get something to eat._ _Check in on Eiffel and Hilbert._ _Check in on Eiffel._ _Check in on Lovelace and Eiffel._ _Check in on Lovelace_ _. Check in on Lovelace and Eiffel._ _Avoid the SI-5_ _. Make sure Jacobi and Kepler are still in the brig. Start work. Exercise. Go to bed. Don’t die. Don’t worry about your hair, there isn’t enough to cut again. Don’t stay up too late. Don’t stop and think too much._

Sometimes, you just need a familiar old song. One you’ve listened to thousands of times. Sometimes, you need a boring day where everything is routine. Protocol. It’s better than threats of violence and a station that seems like it’s going to blow up at least once a week. It’s better than a day where someone almost — _ or maybe not just almost—  _ dies. But she’s getting the feeling that a day like that won’t ever be an option again. 

Two bullets and one explosion and the already crumbling routine was gone. Along with Maxwell and Hilbert  ~~ and Lovelace. ~~

The whole world had changed. Everything was falling apart, changing, breaking, and there was still 48 steps from the bridge to her quarters. 


End file.
